


Appearances

by MaurianasRavenholdt



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: A heavy dose of Oh my god they were roomates, Addiction, Alcohol Withdrawal, Alcoholism, Angst, Beta Free since 1986, Civilian Focus, Detox, Domestic, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mistaken Relationship, Shamelessly Cherry-picking Canon, Turns into an actual relationship, day to day, some homophobic remarks, the character in question is reprimanded
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25939420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaurianasRavenholdt/pseuds/MaurianasRavenholdt
Summary: Roy finds himself floundering with parenthood, and Dick steps in to lend a hand. But his role as a friend comes into question when the town gossip assumes their relationship is more entangled than it appears. The resulting drama calls for the pair to question where their hearts truly do lie.Or: The one where Dick Grayson is a Responsible Adult (TM) and Roy Harper is a dumpster fire doing his best.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Dick Grayson/Roy Harper
Comments: 137
Kudos: 251





	1. Chapter 1

“And they all lived happily...ever...after.” 

Dick yawned as he gently shut the book, careful not to wake the little girl tucked into her unicorn pajamas, fast asleep. “Goodnight, Lian.” He whispered as he crept from the bedroom and flicked off the lights before shutting the door, leaving it open only a crack. 

Downstairs, he heard a grunt. A stumble. A crash. He sauntered down the steps, in no hurry. He knew exactly who it was. 

“Roy Harper. Where the _hell_ were you,” he demanded in an angry whisper. 

Roy swayed and steadied himself on the kitchen table and tried to form a response. Drinking had been his go-to self-medication since he’d gotten ‘clean’. He had completely sworn off methadone after the first few weeks out of rehab, saying it made him ‘fuzzy’, but he functioned only slightly better as an alcoholic than a heroin addict. 

Dick ignored Roy’s slurred, unfinished protests, “You didn’t pick Lian up from school. I was on her emergency contacts so they called me. You’re lucky I wasn’t off-world or something!”

Roy found his tongue. “Go to hell Grayson,” he slurred. “ I don’t need your preaching or your speeches. Won’t happen again. Now leave.” 

“You want me to leave? With you, drunk off your ass and your daughter asleep upstairs? No chance. Get a shower and go to bed. Hopefully you’ll wake up tomorrow and decide you’re ready to be a father. In case you _don’t_ , I’ll be on the couch.”

Roy groaned and Dick stormed into the living room. 

_You can’t keep bailing him out, you know,_ Dick thought as he angrily arranged pillows and a blanket on the sofa. Almost instantly, he realized there was little choice. _If you don’t, they might take Lian away, and if he loses Lian…_

_you might lose him._

There had already been so many losses. 

Too many. He wasn’t sure he could bear another. And Roy was struggling. Badly. Dick practically had to drag him through rehab by the ear to make sure he stayed with the program and didn’t OD. 

And now the drinking.

He flopped down and set an alarm on his phone, not trusting Roy awake early enough to get Lian to school. A pointless precaution - it wasn’t like he was going to get any sleep anyway. He listened as the shower ran long. Then heard the stumbling steps upstairs to Roy’s bedroom. A loud _fwump_ noise as his friend threw his inebriated body into the mattress. Finally, deep, guttural snoring. 

_At least he’s home. And safe,_ Dick thought, _We’ll figure the rest out in the morning._

\----------

As anticipated, Roy was still asleep when Dick’s alarm went off. He dragged himself off the couch, exhausted, and headed to the kitchen to make coffee before he woke Lian. He was stunned to find her already situated in a kitchen chair with a large bowl of cereal, overflowing with milk, in front of her.

“Daddy got home late so I wanted to help so he could sleep,” she said with a grin and a yawn when Dick came into the room, gawping at the mess on the table. 

“That is really thoughtful, sweetheart,” he said, trying to hide the absurd laugh that threatened to bubble out. “Once you're finished we can brush your teeth and I’ll help you get dressed.”

He was taken aback when Lian rolled her eyes. “I’m in _first grade_ Uncle Dick. I can do it myself. I’m a _big kid_.”

A chuckle and a smile from Dick had the little girl beaming.

“I suppose you are,” Dick agreed. 

From the massive bowl of Cheerios, Lian only took a few bites before declaring herself ‘full’ and marching off to the bathroom just off the kitchen. Dick reached to clear away the meal but hesitated. He should make her eat more, right? She would be hungry at school and it would be his fault for not pushing the issue. 

He called after her, “Lian, honey, I think you should finish your breakfast _before_ you brush your teeth, don’t you?”

She poked her head out of the bathroom, toothbrush already firmly in her mouth. “I _am_ finished,” she argued, spraying toothpaste on the floor. 

With a deep breath, Dick insisted, “I get that, but you’ll be starving later and I just want to make sure…”

“I told you, I’m a _big kid_. And I know when I’m finished eating. Daddy doesn’t make me eat after I’m done,” she interrupted. 

She ducked back into the bathroom without another word, and Dick could hear her scrubbing at her teeth erratically. He hopped up and knocked at the door frame. 

“You sure you don’t want some help with that. You want to make sure you get all the germs off…”

Spit flew onto the mirror as Lian shook her head and replied, “Nope,” popping the ‘P’ for effect, and drooling more wet, sticky toothpaste onto the counter. When she decided she was finished (at the one minute mark, Dick noted. Alfred would _never_ have let that slide) she rinsed briefly, hopped off her stool in front of the sink, and declared, “I’m going to pick out my own clothes today!”

Brightly, she skipped off, up the stairs and out of sight. 

With Lian in her room, Dick took a moment and surveyed the damage with mild horror. A puddle of milk on the kitchen table. Cheerios on the floor. A bathroom that was almost completely redecorated with electric blue, ‘Finding Nemo’ toothpaste. And they were just halfway through the process of getting ready with only…

Dick cursed.

Fifteen minutes before they had to leave, based on the dropoff time posted on the school’s website. 

He couldn’t shake the persistent feeling that he was, perhaps, not cut out for parenthood. An amused voice brought Dick back from his impromptu self-reflection. 

“Not so easy, is it?”

Roy’s voice was a little gravelly, and he cleared his throat sleepily, then winced against his obvious headache. 

“Lian woke me up, said you were doing an ‘ok’ job of helping her get ready for school. Looks like she was being generous,” Roy teased, smiling as much as his hangover would allow him. 

Dick kept any acerbic remarks to himself. Roy was here, awake, and engaged. He didn’t want to risk pushing Roy away and causing a fight in front of Lian. The argument that was looming would have to wait. 

“I meant what I think I remember saying last night,” Roy began, dashing Dicks hopes of avoiding a serious conversation before Lian was off to school. Fights with Roy were usually loud, and on rare occasions came to blows. He was only in town to get Roy back on track, not make things worse and leave a mess in his wake. 

“Hm,” Dick said, hoping for a deflection as he crouched down and swept cereal off the linoleum. 

“That it wouldn’t happen again. It was a one off, I don’t miss picking Lian up from school. Ever. You know, more than anyone, how important she is to me.” Roy grabbed the half-full bowl of cereal off the table and dumped it in the trash and placed it in the sink, then leaned on the counter and waited for a response. 

“I have to leave to get Lian to school in ten minutes,” Dick dodged, “can we talk about this later?”

“You mean _I_ have to get her to school. She’s not your responsibility, _Dick_ ,” Roy countered in a harsh, biting whisper. 

“No,” Dick said, shaking his head, “I’m not arguing with you. Not now. And you’re hung over, so I meant what I said. _I_ have to get Lian to school. In _seven_ minutes.”

The tension was reaching a boiling point, and Roy’s silent glare had Dick’s stomach twisting uncomfortably. But an unexpected smile broke on his face when he saw the little girl standing on the steps behind her father in the most outrageous outfit he could have imagined. 

Mismatched, striped socks came up past her knees, covered, in part, by a polka dotted skirt. Her shirt sported a large, fluorescent, smiling narwhal under a rainbow. Other, smaller rainbows covered her cardigan, and she had wrapped a feather boa around her neck. It was an outfit fit for the circus, not school, and Dick laughed in spite of himself. 

That was, apparently, the wrong decision. Lian scowled at him with a disapproving frown. 

“It’s not nice to laugh at people Uncle Dick,” she said with reproach. 

“I wasn’t laughing at you, sweetheart,” he said, standing and tossing the remains of the cereal in the dustpan into the trash. “I just really like your clothes, they made me smile.”

She glared at him suspiciously, but seemed appeased. “What do _you_ think, Daddy?”

Roy tilted his head critically, then mussed her hair and yanked up the hood on her sweater dramatically. 

“Perfect,” he said with a chuckle, “let’s get you to school.”


	2. Chapter 2

Despite Dick’s valiant attempt at punctuality, it was ten minutes _after_ drop off before he, Roy, and Lian made it to the school. Which, of course, meant that simply dropping Lian off at the curb was no longer an option. Shoes, it seemed, were the undoing for Dick’s carefully crafted timeline, and it took Lian a full fifteen minutes to lace and tie her teal, glittery high tops, and Roy had elected to shower before they headed out. Tardiness was apparently the norm in the Harper household. 

Dick parked the car in the small lot in front of the school. He could see other stragglers being brought inside by their parents, and felt a small amount of relief as he walked around to help Lian out. Of course it wasn’t necessary, and she had already unbuckled and slid out of her booster seat. He heard Roy groan behind him as he handed the little girl her Wonder Woman backpack. 

“You should probably stay out here, Roy,” Dick suggested, noting the raging hangover he was still sporting, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Not gonna happen. She needs a parent to sign her in,” Roy countered. 

“They let me sign her out yesterday. Shouldn’t be any different today,” Dick insisted. He was trying to spare Lian the embarrassment of having her father seen with her like this - eyes red rimmed, skin pale, and squinting against bright lights. 

“Rules are rules,” Roy said, shrugging. “Unless I call ahead to tell them someone else is doing the dropoff, it's a whole thing. I’m coming with you.”

Clearly, Roy was trying to wrest back whatever control of the situation he could, and Dick sighed inwardly. Why did it always come to this, these days? He was only trying to help, but Roy insisted on making every one of Dick’s attempts into some sort of pissing match over who was more responsible, or in charge. With a resigned nod, Dick reached for Lian’s hand, but she sidled up to her father and held fast. Part of Dick was grateful Lian cared for her father that much, and hoped that her love would be enough to keep him out of the abyss that always seemed to be ready to swallow him up. And part of him felt sad, like he was sitting on the precipice of a tragedy. Without a doubt, if Roy didn’t get his act together, and soon, someone would take notice of his absence, his drunkenness, and they would take Lian from him. 

Dick was certain a blow like that would be fatal. 

He followed the pair into the school and over to the main office, watching quietly as Roy got Lian checked in. Dick waved, Roy blew a kiss, and the little girl bounded down the hallway and off to class. 

They were almost back to the car when they heard a near-frantic voice behind them.

“Mr. Harper. Roy!”

“ _Fantastic_ ,” Roy muttered, before turning on whatever charm he could manage and smiling back at the slender woman chasing them, “Claire, how are you?”

The woman caught her breath, and adjusted her _very_ blonde hair, “I just saw you and wanted to remind you that Lian will need her costume for the dress rehearsal tonight.”

“Right,” Roy replied, nodding along but looking utterly lost. “And that was tonight at…?”

Claire huffed. “Seven to eight. The first grader’s are all sunflowers, and they need to bring their own costumes. Most of the other parents have already dropped them off, but I hadn’t heard from you…”

“We will deliver one sunflower to you at 7pm on the nose,” Dick said with a dashing smile, attempting to help Roy save face. Clearly he’d forgotten something important. How bad had things gotten without anyone noticing?

“Well, hello!” Claire’s smile transitioned from plastic to predatory as she shifted her gaze away from Roy and gave Dick a salacious once-over. “I don’t believe we’ve met?”

“Dick. Grayson. I’m an old friend of Roy’s…”

“A _friend_!” Something like recognition flashed across her face, “Oh! I’m sorry, I should have guessed! I’m Claire Hudspeth, Vice President of the PTO. I’m so glad Roy has a _friend_ like you.”

Confused, Dick shot a look at Roy, who shrugged. Claire continued.

“You don’t have to worry. This school district is _very_ progressive, and there are plenty of kids that have two moms, or two dads. Anyway, See you at seven! And congratulations, Roy. I’m happy for you! He’s a catch.”

As quickly as she had arrived, Claire was gone, power-walking her way back to the school.

“What was that about?” Roy asked, climbing into the passenger’s seat.

“Pretty sure she thinks we’re together,” Dick replied with an incredulous smile. “Romantically.” He settled into the driver’s seat and pulled out. 

“Great. That’ll come back to bite me in the ass, won’t it?” 

“I have no idea,” Dick said with irritation. Now that Lian was safely at school, he could get to the business of setting Roy back on track. Again. “You forgot she had a play? What happened to ‘it was a one-off’?”

“Parents forget things. Not everyone can be as anal retentive as you,” Roy shot back. “And last I checked, you didn’t have any kids, so you don’t have a lot of room to _judge_ me.”

Dick sighed, “I’m not _judging_ you. I’m _trying_ to help you…”

“And you did. Thanks for covering for me and picking her up. I’ve got it handled from here.” Roy was curt, bordering on sarcastic.

His attitude rankled Dick, “Yeah? And how are you going to pull a sunflower out of your ass by seven?”

Roy snorted. Then laughed, curling in on himself and clutching his side. 

The ridiculousness of what Dick had said finally registered with him. He burst into laughter, too, and pulled over into the shoulder just as tears started to obscure his vision. 

He shifted to look at Roy, surprised by the scene in front of him. Roy wasn’t laughing anymore.

He was _sobbing_.

“I’m fucking it all up, Dick,” Roy said, his breath hitching. “If I can’t keep my shit together for own _daughter_...”

Tentatively, Dick put his hand on his friends shoulder, “We’ll get this all sorted out, ok? We’ll get a sunflower costume, get you back on the wagon, and things will be alright.”

“No. It’s not. I got a call yesterday afternoon… CPS wants to do a home visit and interview at the end of the week. They're going to take her.” Roy wailed. It sounded like he was shattering. Is this how bad it had gotten? Dick cursed. He should have come sooner, and now…

Now he couldn’t guarantee what would happen next. 

He wasn’t a stranger to the interviews and the home visits. CPS came to the manor surprisingly often - an orphan taken in on a whim by an eccentric billionaire, suddenly covered in poorly explained bruises raises red flags, after all. Bruce had his money to protect him, though, and there was never any legitimate, substantive case.

But Roy? 

“They are _not_ going to take her,” Dick said firmly, “I’ll do whatever I have to. And so will you. You are _not_ going to lose Lian.”


	3. Chapter 3

Things seemed far bleaker by the time they made it back to the house. To Dick, the toothpaste covering the bathroom was no longer a cute reminder of Lian’s independence, but a warning. Was she _too_ self-sufficient - coping with Roy’s neglect? Was her reticence to not wake her father after a night of drinking sweet, or concerning? The answers suddenly seemed obvious.

This had been going on for a while. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dick asked as he idly began to wipe off the bathroom mirror.

“It’s not like we’ve had a spare minute to talk since you got here…” Roy began.

“No. I mean, why didn’t you tell me you’ve been struggling this long? This isn't a ‘one-off’ if you’ve been flagged by CPS.” Dick stopped what he was doing and looked critically at Roy. He seemed exhausted - completely spent after his tearful disclosure in the car. A nap would do him good. Pushing Roy to sleep would be the _kind_ thing to do. But truthfully, Dick wasn’t feeling very kind. He was angry. “How bad is it? And what did you do that warrants a home visit?”

Roy met Dick’s temper. “Is this you _helping_ me? Or is this the Bat side of you _interrogating_ me? Because, if you hadn’t noticed, I have a lot of shit on my plate right now, and I don’t have time for a cross-examination.”

“You can answer my questions now when we can actually _fix_ some of this, or you can answer the _same_ questions on Friday when CPS shows up. And I can bet they’re not going to be as forgiving about those answers as I am.” Dick tried to keep his fury, his _disappointment_ in check. Lian meant the world to Roy, to _both_ of them, and he was just throwing that away. 

He switched tactics. “When Jade handed Lian over to me…” he began.

“Don’t,” Roy breathed.

“When she put Lian in my arms, and begged me to take care of her little girl, do you know what I told her? I said Lian would be in good hands. The _best_ of hands.” Dick sighed, and tried to meet Roy’s downcast eyes, “don’t make me a liar. Please.”

There was a moment of hesitation, a shaky breath, and Roy began, “Lian’s missed a lot of school recently. I’ve been too… I haven’t been able to get her in. When her teachers asked her about it, apparently she told them that ‘daddy is sick a lot because he drinks a lot.”. Between the truancy and the alcohol…”

“And your solution to that was to go out and get so drunk that you forget to pick her up? Jesus, Roy.” Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I was a wreck,” Roy tried to explain. “It was supposed to be one or two drinks to help me calm down and figure out what to do next. But two became three, and then the next thing I knew it was dark. I had to get home.”

“Is there anything else? Anything at all,” Dick asked with a sigh. Roy shook his head. “Then you may be in ok shape. The fact that they’re giving you till the end of the week is a good sign, too. If they thought she was in danger they’d have taken her days ago.” 

“But they still might,” Roy said quietly. 

“Yeah,” Dick sighed, “they still might. So let’s get the house in order, make sure Lian doesn’t miss any more school, and I’m sure it goes without saying but the drinking…” 

“Stops. I know.”

With a nod, Dick turned his attention back to cleaning the bathroom. There was so much he wanted to say to Roy. He wanted to fight and rage, tell him how stupid he was, how much he was throwing away because he couldn’t get his shit together. But none of that would be productive, nor would it keep Lian home where she belonged. Still, the memories of the last time they went through this were sharp. Roy had come so close to ODing on more than one occasion. In some ways, Lian had saved him, then. Given him a goal, and the focus to get clean.

If Roy did it once, he could do it again. If not for himself, then for her. It wasn’t her job, but maybe, just maybe, she could save him another time. 

As Dick rinsed out the sink, he planned for the alternatives. What if they _did_ decide to move Lian to a foster home? The system was a sensitive topic for him _and_ Roy. It hadn’t done either of them any favors. But a question stuck in the back of Dick’s mind.

In a good, loving foster home, would Lian be better off? Better off with normal people without addiction issues or a costumed persona to protect?

Maybe. Maybe not.

But either way, it would destroy Roy. 

So there really were no _alternatives_ to plan for. No room for error or failure. Lian and Roy _had_ to stay together.

\-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

By noon, both the house and Roy were looking better. Little things, like a backlog of laundry, and a sink full of dishes, were taken care of. Individually, they wouldn’t have meant much to CPS, but a filthy house, an alcoholic father, and a kid that can’t reliably get to school had the potential to paint an entirely different picture. If they thought, for a second, that she wasn’t safe with Roy…

Dick didn’t need to think about the possibilities. Because they _were_ going to fix this. 

The only major task left was to somehow craft a sunflower costume with barely any time or materials. They found some green pants and a shirt in Lian’s boxed up winter clothes, and Roy had managed to - miraculously - track down the instructions for making the headpiece, but without the supplies, they were at a dead end. Dick knew of only one person qualified to help them.

“Hey, Alfred,” Dick began, smiling sheepishly at the camera of his phone. He’d dialed swiftly once he knew they were intractably stuck. Luckily, the butler was available. 

“Hello, Master Richard. How may I be of service?”

Dick held up the paper with the directions for producing the perfect sunflower top. “We have no time, limited supplies, and we have to make one of these.”

“I see.” Alfred raised a curious eyebrow, but held back his commentary. “Tell me what materials you _do_ have and we’ll begin from there…”

Two hours, three additional calls to Alfred, and five hot glue gun burns later, Roy held the sunflower costume up for its final inspection. Then shook his head. 

“It’s not going to look like the other kids’,” he said with a sigh. “They’ll all have felt, and construction paper and pipe cleaners…”

“It’s going to look _great_ Roy.” Dick wanted, more than anything, to reassure him. His confidence in his ability to parent seemed to be slipping away. “Lian will love it because _you_ made it.” 

“But I _didn’t_.” Roy stood up from the table and tossed the headpiece onto it. “ _You_ did! _You_ picked her up from school and _you_ got her ready and _you_ made the costume and I’m just the fuckup dad on the verge of losing her.” 

“You are _not_ a fuckup and you are _not_ going to lose her.” Dick didn’t care how many times he had to say it - he was going to make Roy believe it, too. He picked up the sunflower hat and adjusted some of the cloth around it, then handed it back to Roy. “ _You_ are the one that’s raised her so far. The one that _made_ her into a funny, confident, and independent kid. The rest is just… semantics. Bits and pieces that I can help you with, if you’ll just let me instead of fighting it.”

Roy sighed. “I’m not _trying_ to fight it I just…” He shook his head with a shame-soaked expression, “I’ve been selfish. I should be the one to fix this and I just can’t seem to get it together. We shouldn't even in this situation in the first place!”

“Look, Roy,” Dick began, “you are one of the bravest, most determined people I know. You can do this, even if I wasn't here to help. But I also know that you’ve had my back more times than I could ever count. That's all this is. Me, having your back, like you’ve always had mine. Ok?”

Tension drained from Roy’s face as he nodded. 

Dick glanced at the clock, “We should probably head out to get Lian.”

“I think I’d like to go alone, if that’s ok?” It was clear that Roy _needed_ to prove to himself he could pull his life, _everything_ , back from the brink of disaster. If he needed something to control, Dick could give him that. 

“Sure thing. See you soon.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Wow, Daddy!” Lian exclaimed when she walked into the house and dropped her bookbag on the linoleum floor, “Everything looks so _sparkly_! Who’s coming over?”

Clearly, it was meant to be an innocent question, but Roy looked at Dick helplessly. _What do I tell her_ , he seemed to ask. Dick shrugged, then shook his head. He was at a loss, too. 

“Nobody, sweetheart,” Roy answered finally. “Do you want a snack?”

A smile broke across her small face and she nodded emphatically. As Roy set about making the girl a plate of sliced apples, Dick frowned. Would it have been better to give Lian a heads up - let her know that people were coming to make sure she was safe? Or would it just make everything worse? He hated that there was no clear path - no way to be sure which decisions were the right ones. 

He watched Roy dote on her as she gushed about her day at school. She told him about the monkey bars and music class. She showed him a picture she drew and read a little from the book she brought home. 

“And tonight we have to practice the play,” she reminded him with finality. “Can I see my costume?” 

Dick smiled and held it up. Lian’s face fell. 

“Oh. It’s really pretty. It’s just…” Her bottom lip quivered. “Lily’s sunflower has glitter, and Aubrey’s mom _made_ her a green dress…” She looked up and saw Roy’s crestfallen expression and backpedaled. “But this is really good, Daddy! You and Uncle Dick tried really hard. I like it a lot. Thank you.”

Frustration radiated off of Roy. Dick felt it too. All that work… but Lian didn’t realize how much of Roy’s confidence hinged on this small thing. And how much, in turn, rode on Roy’s belief that he was a good parent. 

Ever the perceptive child, Lian dropped her gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

Instantly heartbroken, Roy swept her up into his arms and hugged her tight. “No. Sweetie, no. You could never, _ever_ make me sad. You make me so happy. And I'll try and make a better one for your performance, if you want.”

He set her back down, and she picked up the sunflower top, then eyed it critically, squinting slightly. “No. Now that I look at it right, this one is just perfect.” Her beaming smile seemed to settle Roy at last.

Dick was more sure than ever that Lian was exactly where she belonged. The two of them _fit_ as a family, and made each other better people. Roy loved her with everything he had. All Dick had to do was make sure that ‘everything he had’ was enough.

\-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

After homework and dinner, Dick, Roy, and Lian loaded into the car, costume in hand, and set out for the school. The parking lot was full, so they settled for a spot in the back and headed in - Dick carrying the costume and Roy holding Lian’s hand. They’d almost made it to the door when they were flagged down by Claire once again, in lock step with another woman Roy hastily identified as the secretary of the PTA, Tammy.

“Oh good, you made it! And is that…” She eyed the costume with disdain. “Oh dear, did you lose the instructions? Well, this will work for tonight and I’ll have one of the moms make her one for Friday’s show.”

Lian responded before Roy could, placing her hands on her hips and scowling at the woman in front of her. “My Daddy worked hard, Ms. Claire. Uncle Dick, too. I don’t want a new one. I only want _this_ one.”

Tammy made a face. “Well, alright. But the other kids will look different than you, yours won’t match, sweetie.”

“That’s just ‘cause mine is extra special,” Lian shot back with more venom than Dick thought a 7 year old should be able to muster. 

With a shocked, affronted expression, Claire looked at Roy, clearly prompting him for an apology on Lian’s behalf. But the girl hadn’t been _rude_ , simply confident. Dick smiled, relieved that Roy just shrugged and said “If you would excuse us…” in the best debonair voice he could manage, dredging his old gala smile up out of the ashes of his childhood. As they skirted around her and made their way into the school, Dick was stunned to hear Claire whisper under her breath to her friend, 

“That costume is _hideous_. I thought the gays were supposed to be _good_ with fashion.”

Tammy’s reply was _almost_ out of earshot, “In my opinion, people like that have no business raising a child, anyway.”

Dicks pace stuttered to a halt. Horrified at what he’d just heard - apparently Claire had been content to start spreading gossip and lies. Every protective instinct inside him screamed at him to take this woman to task, but a small tug on his hand pulled his attention to Lian’s smiling face. 

“C’mon, Uncle Dick. I don’t want you to miss me on stage!” 

When he looked back over his shoulder, Tammy and Claire were gone. So he filed the conversation somewhere in his mind and returned Lian’s grin with a beaming one of his own. 

“Of course, sweetheart. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

Lian bounded away to her place backstage, and Dick took a seat beside Roy, just as the principal took the microphone onto the stage. 

“Hello parents and family. As you know, this is the final rehearsal of our play ‘Flowers of the Meadow’. I want to thank you all for your contributions…”

Dick tuned out the rest of the speech, and instead focused on Roy. Beads of sweat clung to the strands of hair along his neck, and he absently rubbed his temple. His subtle freckles stood out against the pallor of his skin. Inwardly, Dick cursed. 

Damn. Withdrawal already. 

As the children took their places on the stage, Roy began to look worse. Abruptly, he stood, clambered over Dick’s legs, and headed to the back of the auditorium, then out into the parking lot. Dick’s sympathy for Roy was limited. Withdrawal was nasty business, but he hoped it would be a deterrent - maybe Roy would think twice before going through this again. Dick only began to grow concerned when, about twenty minutes into the rehearsal, the sunflowers took front and center. 

Roy was still nowhere to be seen. 

He should go outside and check on him. Dick knew he should. But he also needed to stay - if Lian looked out into the audience and saw both of them missing her heart would break. She didn’t deserve that just because Roy was paying the price for his bad choices. He took a steadying breath and settled deeper into the seat just as the first graders started singing.

Once he was sure Lian had seen him, and the sunflowers retreated backstage after their song, Dick quietly got up and left the auditorium. Outside, he found Roy by some inconspicuous bushes, retching. 

“You ok?” Dick asked, knowing he wasn’t. 

“Fuck, no,” Roy managed to choke out before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked around furtively, as if making sure no one had heard his foul language. “Is she up?”

Dick winced. There hadn’t been time to get Roy _before_ Lian’s group got on stage. “They already went. I’m sorry.” 

“Damnit. God damnit!” Roy straightened up and took a few shaky steps toward the school. Dick took hold of his arm and waited for him to get his bearings. With a sigh, Roy leaned against him, taking a small moment of comfort from his friend. 

“There’s still the show on Friday…” Dick began, doing his best to console Roy. 

“Yeah. If they haven’t taken her by then.” Roy looked like he might be sick again, as if the reminder of the deadline hanging over their heads was more than his stomach could take, but he managed to keep his composure and his footing. Suddenly angry, Roy pulled his arm from Dick’s grasp, then stormed toward the school. 

Dick hung back, confused, and kicked himself for handling that so poorly. Why was this so hard? Helping Roy should have been _simple_. He’d done it before, but with Lian in the mix, and the threat of child services looming over them…

He was out of his depth.


	5. Chapter 5

Roy made it through the rest of the rehearsal without incident. It was little consolation - he’d missed Lian’s part, and it was clear that, in his mind, his daughter was as good as gone - he wasn't going to get another shot. A fear that wasn’t entirely unfounded. If Roy was withdrawing this hard, this soon, his drinking had been far worse than Dick realized. A more pressing concern stuck in Dick’s mind.

Roy would be at the height of his withdrawal symptoms when CPS came for their home visit. They would want to interview him, have him give them a tour of Lian’s bedroom, show them the contents of the fridge… Dick wasn’t sure if Roy could manage that alone. He hadn’t intended to stay for more than a day or two - just enough to get Roy back on the right path. But in about twenty-four hours, Roy would be close to incapactiated. By Friday…

By Friday it would be worse. Assuming he stayed sober till then. Dick wasn’t sure which outcome would be worse. If Roy went back to drinking, he might appear to function better than if he were detoxing, but getting sober was a huge step in proving he was committed to Lian. Would child services see that, and understand?

They made it home around nine - well past Lian’s bedtime. Well past Roy’s, too, from the look of things. If possible, he seemed paler than before, and his hands had begun shaking. The frustration was palpable as he struggled to open the deadbolt on the front door. Carefully, gently, Dick put his hands over Roy’s and helped him guide the key into its slot. 

“Thanks,” Roy said with a grimace. 

Once inside, Dick dropped the costume and Lian’s belongings on the kitchen table. 

“PJ’s, brush teeth, story, and bed,” Dick announced with performative cheer. Lian didn’t need to shoulder the worry over her father’s withdrawal, and Dick was determined to make things as normal as possible for as long as possible. 

Pouting, Lian shook her head. “I’m not tired.” 

Not. Tired.

Lian looked ready to fall over. Her eyelids drooped under the weight of her fatigue, and her shoulders were slumped. Dick was at a loss - how was he supposed to convince a little girl that she was, in fact, _exhausted_. That it was later than she thought, and it was beyond time for bed. He stood there, mouth agape, stymied. 

Mercifully, Roy chimed in.

“Tired or not, you're going to get PJs on and go to bed. You have school tomorrow.”

“But you’re sick,” Lian countered, “And when you're sick I get to stay _home_.”

A heavy silence settled in the room. Guilt-ridden, Roy looked at the floor. “I know, sweetheart,” he said at last, “but Uncle Dick is here to help me feel better. And he’s going to make sure you get to school tomorrow, even if I _am_ still sick.” He swallowed thickly - whether from nausea or shame, Dick couldn’t tell. 

With a final, over exaggerated scowl that should probably have been reprimanded, Lian stomped off to her room to get changed.

Roy slumped down into a kitchen chair. 

“I’m fucking it all up,” he whispered. “I’m fucking it all up and I don’t know if I can fix it.”

Dick dragged a chair close and sat down, too. Without looking up, Roy snaked his hand over to Dick’s and held fast. If reassurance was what Roy needed right now, Dick could give him that.

“We _are_ going to fix this. I’m here, the house is in order, we just have to get you sorted out. We’ll _fix_ this.” Dick stopped just short of promising. Because, from his perspective, it was a toss up. They might be prepared to help Roy through this while keeping his family intact. They might be just as ready to remove Lian until he got his act together. 

“Thank you,” Roy said quietly, “for coming. Saving my ass. Taking care of Lian.”

“Always,” Dick replied with a final squeeze before he pulled his hand back, just as Lian called down the stairs;

“I’m ready for my stooo-ry!”

\-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Before the bedtime routine was finished, Roy vomited two more times. And Dick was getting _very_ concerned. He would never have told Roy to just ‘stop’ if he knew how bad it actually was. How deeply entrenched he was in his alcoholism. At this rate, they wouldn't have to worry about the CPS visit, they’d have to worry about a _hospital_ visit. Dick couldn’t help but run through the serious symptoms of withdrawal, or watch Roy carefully for signs of the DTs. Every behavior was seen through the filter of suspicion. Was that a tremor? Did Roy feel a little _too_ warm? Was the headache normal, or skyrocketing blood pressure? Not for the first time, Dick felt ill equipped for this task.

Once Lian was asleep, snoring ever so slightly, Dick helped Roy to the shower. If only to gauge his coordination and to wash the sweat away. Roy sat on the toilet seat while Dick turned on the water, and stuck his hand in to test the temperature. It wouldn’t help anyone if Roy scalded himself because he was too out of it to notice. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Roy said softly. 

“Would you do the same for me?” Dick asked.

“Yeah,” Roy replied, “but this is different…”

“No. It’s not.” Dick pulled back the shower curtain and looked away as Roy undressed and stepped inside. 

Once he was sure Roy could clean himself and keep his balance at the same time, Dick padded to the bedroom to afford the man some privacy and dignity. He made the bed, then sat heavily on it. Drained, he propped his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Then he silently mapped out the time they had left.

Wednesday was nearly spent. That only left one full day before the home visit. Not _nearly_ enough time to put Roy back together and show some semblance of a functioning household. Friday seemed to be barreling down on them. Even though he knew they had the basics, food in the fridge and clean clothes in the closet, he couldn’t help but feel leaden dread about the impending inspection. What if they realized that Roy wasn’t just sick, but detoxing. What if there was _already_ was enough evidence, and they were just coming to round out their case and take Lian? 

He heard Roy come into the room, but didn’t look up. He was too tired, and he didn’t want Roy to see the exhaustion and worry on his face. He had to keep it together or they didn’t stand a chance. The _last_ thing he needed was Roy pushing away because he felt like a burden. 

“We should get some sleep,” Roy said, his voice strained and gravelly, like he’d been crying in the shower. “Six o’clock comes earlier than you’d think.” 

Finally, Dick looked up, smiled soberly and nodded. He pulled himself to his feet and watched as Roy flopped down on the mattress, still in a towel, and pulled the covers over himself. They were tucked up under his chin, and he looked _fragile_ in a way that made Dick’s heart ache for him. 

“Goodnight, Roy,” Dick said as he turned out the light and walked to the door. 

“Robbie?” 

Dick barely heard the whisper, but it stopped him in his tracks. Roy hadn’t called him that in years. 

“Yeah?” He replied to the darkness. 

There was a pause. A tension in the room Dick could feel but not see. 

“Stay?”

Dick hesitated, and in the space of a breath Roy began to backpedal. 

“I was just thinking the couch was shitty and you looked exhausted…”

A shuddering sigh from the direction of the bed confirmed what Dick had suspected; Roy was _afraid_. Sick, ashamed, and days away from potentially losing _so much_. He wanted comfort - the warmth of a friend - to get him through the night and face the morning. Carefully, Dick turned away from the door and crawled into bed beside Roy. The simple gesture was more than Roy could take, and his body convulsed in restrained sobs. All Dick could do is rub his back and reassure him as best he could. 

“It’s ok. I’m here. I’ll stay.”


	6. Chapter 6

Six o’clock _did_ come earlier than Dick thought it would. He’d waited until Roy’s breathing had evened out, though it still hitched slightly in his sleep, before dozing himself. When the alarm went off, it felt like he hadn’t slept at all. Still, he rolled over and gently jostled Roy, then dragged himself out of bed. 

Roy didn’t move.

For a split second Dick felt a rush of panic. Why wasn’t Roy waking up? In the bare moments after Dick had gotten out of bed, his mind had raced through the possibilities. Was Roy too _sick_ to wake up? Was his withdrawal so severe that he had...?

Roy groaned. Dick started breathing again. 

“You alright?” Dick asked, hiding the shakiness of his voice. “You scared me for a minute there.”

“Most people say ‘good morning’,” Roy groused. “‘M fine.”

He sat up and winced, and his hand flew up to hold his head. The headache looked _bad_.

“You go ahead and take the shower, first,” Roy offered with a grimace. “I’m just going to sit for a while and see if this settles.”

Dick showered quickly, and was surprised to find Roy missing from the bed where he left him. Still damp, he slid into his clothes and padded down the hallway. Roy was there, leaning against Lian’s doorframe, peering into the slightly open door. Quietly, Dick stepped close and put his hand on Roy’s shoulder. 

“I’m good,” Roy whispered, sensing the unspoken question. “Just reminding myself why I’m doing this. What’s at stake. You know?”

Dick nodded and tightened his grip. He wanted to pull Roy into a hug, make sure he was _really_ ok, keep his pieces from falling into a heap. But Roy sighed contentedly, and Dick wondered if that was really necessary at all.

“She’s perfect. Just the way she is. And I want to keep her that way, but if I keep fucking my life up… She deserves the best. No matter what.” Roy shook his head vehemently, then winced again. He left the thought unfinished and crept into the room, calling Lian’s name in a sing-song voice.

She stirred slightly, then rubbed her face on her pillow and clutched her stuffed T-rex tightly. Swaying a little, unsteady, Roy leaned down and petted her hair. “It’s time to wake up, pumpkin, you’ve got school.”

“Don’ wanna…” Lian yawned sleepily. 

“I know. Me either. But it’s school time.” 

Roy’s face suddenly looked paler, if possible, and he straightened abruptly, then clamped his hand over his mouth and pushed past Dick toward the bathroom. 

Frightened, Lian sat up and went to follow after him. Dick knelt down and gently held her still. 

“Daddy’s ok, his tummy is just a little upset,” Dick lied. 

Lian looked at him critically, disbelieving, and then craned her neck around Dick to look for her father. “I want to go help him.”

His brow furrowed. How could he possibly explain what was happening? Here was a frightened little girl who just wanted to make her daddy better and all Dick could do was hold her shoulders and lie to her. “He’s ok,” he repeated, “He’ll start to feel better soon, honey. Let’s get you ready for school, alright?”

The morning progressed absent of the cheer from yesterday. Lian plodded through her morning routine, and didn’t care _what_ clothes Dick picked out for her. She kept stealing glances upstairs, waiting for Roy to come down and join them. 

He didn’t.

With just a few minutes left before they had to leave, Dick called up to Roy, “You ok up there? It’s time to go!”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just… go ahead without me. Love you, Lian,” came the call from behind the door. Roy’s voice barely carried down the stairs. 

Without a proper goodbye from her father, Lian was in tears. She grabbed her bookbag and burst out the front door, then sulked by the car while Dick caught up. 

This was not a good start to their morning.

The drop off was, however, mercifully uneventful. They made it in plenty of time for Dick to let her out at the curb, and she waved back at him sadly before trudging into the school. It was stark, the difference a single day made. The only missing element was Roy. She needed him as much as he needed her. 

Dick had expected Roy to be somewhat better when he came back to the house, but empty silence greeted him. He furrowed his brow, then climbed the stairs. The bathroom door at the end of the hall was still closed. With a concerned sigh, Dick knocked gently. 

“You ok, Roy?”

“‘M fine, be out later, ” he slurred.

He. _Slurred_.

Worry turned to thick, disappointment-soaked anger and Dick shook his head. “Open the damn door, Roy.”

There was a moment of hesitation, then the sound of a lock clicking. Dick didn’t give him the chance to turn the knob before he barged in. Roy staggered back and sat heavily on the edge of the bathtub, barely catching himself on the wall. The bottle of cheap vodka he was holding clattered to the tile floor. 

“God _damnit_ Roy!” Dick was seething. All the work, the preparation, the promises… He’d left Roy alone for a single morning. A handful of hours, between waking Lian up and returning home, and he’d already managed to slide all the way back to square one. 

“Lemme explain…” Roy began

“No,” Dick interrupted, cutting off whatever excuses Roy was about to stumble over. “No, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve trusted you with my _life_ , Roy, but apparently I couldn’t trust you to be by yourself for a few hours. I can’t…” Dick paused, and shut his eyes tight. He needed to leave before he said something he regretted. “I can’t stay here, right now. I’ll be back to bring Lian home, but I’m leaving. If you can't get yourself together by then, you’re on your own.”

Dick cursed inwardly. So much for not saying things he’d regret.

Dick’s shoulders slumped as he turned and walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs. He heard Roy wobbling down the steps behind him, but he wouldn't be deterred. There was too much emotion, too much dismay, for him to stay and have any sort of useful conversation. He grabbed his bag and walked to the door.

“You’re just gonna leave, then?” Roy was yelling, another telltale sign that he was drunk. He was never particularly pleasant under the influence. “Leave, when I _need_ you? What happened to all that shit about ‘having my back,’ huh?”

“We are _not_ discussing this now, Roy.” It took everything Dick had to hold his tongue and head out the door. Unfortunately, Roy followed him out, and over to the car. 

“Please!” He begged, “I can’t do this without you. I need you!”

Stepping close, Dick said in a hush, “Roy, stop, you’re making a scene.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration. A smattering of neighbors had peeked out of their houses, hoping to get a glimpse of the latest suburban drama. One or two stood across the street, watching with amusement and feigned horror. But Roy continued, undeterred. 

“Fine! Go!” He had begun shoving Dick, pushing him until his back was against the car door. Roy always had a habit of letting an argument devolve into a physical fight - a level of passion that was invaluable in the ‘field’. But here and now, in his driveway? 

Not so much. 

Dick turned to get into the car. What else could he do? Screaming back at Roy in an attempt to make him see reason would only draw more attention. A small crowd had already formed at the end of the cul de sac, with housewives gawking and covering their mouths with their hands. 

Before Dick had a chance to climb in, Roy wrenched the car door from his hands and slammed it shut. Alcohol wafted in Dick’s face as Roy stepped even closer. Finally, his voice was quiet, but the rage in it made the words feel like they had been shouted

“Some friend you are.”

And with that, Roy stormed back into the house. 

Dick sighed and shook his head. How had he let the situation get that out of control. Embarrassed, he surveyed the gaggles of people now dispersing from the sidewalks. A familiar face, wearing a smirk, stood out. 

PTA Secretary and resident bigot, Tammy. 

Dick’s stomach sank as she locked eyes with him and pulled out her phone. She dialed something, a short number, and Dick heard her clearly across the now-quiet street. “Yes, my neighbors are having a domestic dispute and it sounds violent…”

Dick couldn’t help but curse under his breath. 

“ _Shit_.”


	7. Chapter 7

Dick wanted, more than anything, to storm across the street and wrench the phone from that scheming homophobe’s hand. Wanted to tell her she was playing a game with stakes she couldn’t possibly understand. He _wanted_ to, but he couldn’t. The police were coming, and if Roy stood a chance of pulling himself together, Dick had to warn him. So he turned away from Tammy with her stupid smug face and headed back into the house. 

Inside, he expected to find Roy still raging. But it was surprisingly quiet. Just the subtle sound of sniffling from the living room. Carefully turning the corner, Dick saw Roy sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. It took far too long for Roy to notice his presence. When he finally did, he looked up with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

“You came back,” he said through hitching breaths. 

Dick wanted to soften the blow but there wasn’t time. “Listen - one of your neighbors called the police, Roy. Said there was a ‘violent domestic dispute’ here. I can try and help, see if I can smooth this over, but you need to go upstairs, brush your teeth, and put on clean clothes. They’ll still be able to smell the alcohol on you, but...”

“The _cops_?” Roy’s slurred frantically. “Fuck! What am I going to do?!”

Underneath a placid mask, Dick couldn’t help but mirror Roy’s panic. The case against his parental fitness just kept building, and they were both powerless to stop it. A useless, intrusive thought played on a loop in Dick’s mind. 

Lian was as good as gone. 

But he couldn’t let Roy see any of that. So he heaved his friend to his feet, pushed him in the direction of the stairs, and peered out the window. Waiting for the inevitable. Dick walked himself back from the ledge of his mounting anxiety by mentally reviewing police response times to domestic violence cases. Gotham cops typically made it out in twenty-five minutes - national average was nineteen. In more suburban areas like this, it was even quicker. They had fifteen minutes, tops, before shit hit the fan. Not nearly enough time to sober Roy up and pull this situation out of a nosedive. 

By the time Roy had made it back down the stairs, dressed in casual, clean clothes and passing as remarkably together, the police had rolled into the driveway, angling their car behind Dick’s and Roy’s - a standard protocol to keep flight routes blocked. Roy was shaking as they slowly sauntered up the sidewalk and to the front door, where they rapped four times, then stepped back.

“Breathe,” Dick reminded Roy gently. He opened the door and stepped outside, hoping to stall and help Roy collect himself before the inevitable questions began. 

“How can I help you, officers?”

Dick kept his voice light and his words formal. There was no reason to antagonize them. If he was lucky, he could give them the answers they needed on the front porch and they’d be on their way. 

Of course, Lady Luck had left his side a long time ago. 

“We received a call about a domestic disturbance,” the taller cop (Williams, his badge read) began, “We’d like to make sure you _and_ your partner are ok.”

Dick powered through the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Partner’. He opened his mouth to correct them, if only in the interest of keeping things factual, but the other officer, Johnson, spoke up.

“The person who called also stated that a young girl lives here. We’d like to check in on her, too.”

A fresh wave of panic washed over Dick, and he took a small step back, staggered. Tammy’s attack was nothing if not targeted. Apparently, she was dead set on making sure Roy lost Lian for good. Dick had to be careful with his phrasing if there was any chance of salvaging this. 

“I dropped Lian off at school early this morning. About an hour ago, now.” 

He hoped the officers would infer that Lian wasn’t present for the _incident_. He didn’t want to call it a ‘fight’ and have them assume something else entirely.

“Alright,” Williams said, nodding. 

Dick thought the assurances passed scrutiny far too easily, but he wasn’t going to question it. He _almost_ thought this entire thing might just blow over, until Johnson took a step forward with an officious smile. 

“We’d like to come in and check on your partner, now,” he said. It was clear that it wasn’t a request. 

Refusal _was_ an option. There was no warrant, no emergency circumstance. Dick _could_ have said ‘no’. But that might have escalated things beyond a situation he could control. Control was all he had. Instead, he opted for another stall.

“We’re not partners,” he corrected at last, using the awkwardness to throw the officers off balance. “Just friends. I’m helping him out for a little while, is all.”

Williams raised his eyebrows. Johnson gave a disbelieving nod. 

“We can come in, then?” he pushed. 

Defeated, Dick shrugged and sighed, then opened the door and stepped aside, allowing them to enter. 

Inside, Roy had elected to sit at the kitchen table - no doubt in an effort to keep his swaying at bay. He looked _terrible_ , and Dick could see his hands clenched onto the edge of the table with a white knuckle grip. 

“Officers,” he greeted without elaborating or getting up. He tried to fake it, but the slur of his voice betrayed him. 

“Have you been drinking, sir?” Their immediate question spoke volumes about how drunk Roy actually was, no matter how desperately he pretended not to be. They must've smelled it clear across the room.

Dick looked at Roy, silently pleading for him to just keep his mouth shut. He didn’t owe the police anything right now. They were in the home as guests, and without a warrant or probable cause there was no reason for them to press any further beyond a simple welfare check. 

Mercifully, Roy took the hint and simply shrugged. Not a denial, not an admission. A perfectly measured response. 

“Okay,” Johnson said, shaking his head. Likely frustrated at the lie of omission. He turned to Dick. “The witness also said you were shoved and hit. Did you want to press charges?”

Once again, Dick was stunned. _Did he want to press charges?_ “No. Absolutely not,” Dick replied with finality. 

Williams pulled out a computer tablet and tapped in some information. “Then we’re just going to be citing you for disturbing the peace today, sir. Can I have your name?”

With a cough and a deep breath, Roy answered, “Roy Harper.”

“Any middle name?”

“William,” Roy croaked in reply.

A paper printed out and Williams ripped it off, then held it out for Roy to take. Shakily, Roy stood and grabbed the citation, then pretended to examine it with a blank expression. 

“You’ll get a letter in the mail with a court date,” Johnson explained, “and information of how to get a lawyer, if you can’t afford one. We’re also going to put a call in to Department of Children and Families so they can check in on you all and make sure the little girl is ok, too.”

Instantly, Roy’s eyes snapped up, and he seemed more sober than he had all morning. “What?” he demanded quietly. 

“It’s just procedure,” Williams said offhandedly, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb into a fragile, frightening situation. “Call us if you need anything else. Have a good day.”

And with that, they turned and left the house.

Roy collapsed back into the chair as soon as the police had pulled away. Trembling, he held his head in his hands. “It’s over. It’s done and I’ve fucked it all up. They called CPS, and I’ve already got an open case. They’re going to take her from me...” 

His voice was so small, so _lost_. Dick knelt down in front of him and let him lean forward, holding him as he sobbed. 

“It’s ok, we can fix this,” Dick soothed, rubbing his hands down Roy’s back. The strong smell of alcohol on Roy’s breath stoked Dick’s anger, but he forcibly pushed it aside. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to fight, now. But the truth remained that Roy _had_ fucked up. He knew what was at stake and he slid back into old habits, anyway. 

That wasn’t entirely fair, though. Was it? Roy was an addict, trying his best to stop on his own - no rehab or doctors at his side. Missteps were to be expected. But right now, with Lian in the mix and everything in jeopardy? Mistakes were catastrophic. Roy _knew_ that. 

Still, Dick’s heart _ached_. Not just because Roy was so broken right now. But because the memories of the last time Roy really fought these particular demons was still sharp, the wounds barely scabbed. There was no part of Dick that would ever forget the events leading up to Roy’s stint in rehab. What it was like to find him nearly gone in his apartment after an overdose. The Narcan, the ambulance, the hospital. It was like a piece of Dick’s soul had nearly been shattered. Roy meant so much to him. Will _always_ mean so much to him. 

Fresh realization washed over him as he held his terrified, lost friend in his arms. Roy nearly _died_ the last time things were this bad. Then, he was only struggling with the evils that plagued _anyone_ in the hero life. But this…

Lian was his _world_. A world on the brink of destruction. 

Dick knew, with sickening certainty, that if he couldn’t _fix_ this, Roy would, at best, go back to heroin. At worst…

The worst was something he couldn't bear. And _that_ was truly what made his heart ache. The thought of losing Roy, of losing someone who had grown to be such an integral part of his life. Someone he couldn’t live without.

Someone he _loved_. 

But all he had were impotent platitudes. No solutions, nothing to make sure Lian stayed with her father. So he held Roy gently and let him cry.


	8. Chapter 8

“I called a lawyer, everything is as solid as it can be right now. It’s going to be ok.”

Dick wasn’t _actually_ sure if it was going to be ok, but he had to fake it. Roy _needed_ him to fake it. In reality, it was a miracle they didn’t haul Roy off for drunk and disorderly conduct. There would be no way to spin a situation like that. But disturbing the peace, Dick could work with. He hoped. 

Nearly an hour had passed before Roy calmed himself down and Dick had damage control in place. Much of that time Dick spent holding Roy to his chest, listening to him sob. The alcohol had lowered his inhibitions, that much was certain. A sober Roy would never have allowed himself to be so openly vulnerable. 

The quiet after all the crying made Dick’s ears ring. His muscles ached from propping Roy up in the awkward position his body had folded into as he wailed. But there was a sense of peace, like a hidden spring buried beneath the pain and anxiety and anger. He’d forgotten how Roy’s presence always seemed to focus him, even in the worst, most trying situations. 

They sat together at the kitchen table in silence. Then, with a sharp inhale, Roy hung his head and said quietly, “I’m sorry I pushed you.” 

Dick reached out and squeezed his hand. He didn’t want to say it was ‘ok’. It wasn’t. It wasn’t ok that Roy had nearly thrown away all the hard work they’d both put in to keep Lian at home. It wasn’t ok that Roy had gotten drunk and threatened the tenuous progress they had made. And it might not _be_ ok. There was no way to know. All Dick could do was be there, in the moment, for Roy. 

In the silent space after Roy’s apology, before Dick could come up with something worthwhile to say, Roy’s phone started vibrating. He pulled it out and looked at it, then abruptly dropped it on the table. Dick craned his neck over to see the caller ID - a local number Roy had labeled ‘Diane CPS’. 

Dick’s stomach sank, and he picked the phone up, then answered the call. 

“Hello?”

“Hello. This is Diane from the Department of Children and Families. Am I speaking to Mr. Harper?”

For a split second, Dick considered handing the phone over to Roy, but his pleading eyes, red rimmed and still not-quite-sober changed his mind. 

“Yes,” Dick lied. “How can I help you?”

“I wanted to touch base with you. I know we had a home visit scheduled for tomorrow, but we’ve just received a notification of an incident at your home and would like to come by early this afternoon to finalize your case and make sure everything is ok. Will you be home?” 

Diane was the epitome of professionalism, but Dick could read between the lines. ‘Finalize the case’? The only thing left to ‘finalize’ was to take Lian. 

“Yes, I’ll be home,” Dick said, struggling to keep his voice level.

Roy looked at him quizzically as Dick ended the call. He took a deep breath in and steadied himself - this would be another blow and Roy was already fragile. 

“They want to stop by today. To finalize things.”

Roy clenched his eyes closed tightly. His deep inhale was shaky - trembling with all he’d been through. WIth all he’d put _himself_ through. And Lian. Dick clamped down on a fresh surge of anger. 

“When?” Roy asked, his voice cracking behind his fear and desperation. 

“Soon,” Dick confirmed.

\-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Uncomfortable hours passed as Dick and Roy waited for what felt like looming gallows. Dick scrubbed the already spotless surfaces in the kitchen with focused determination. Cleaning was a meditative task - a lesson he’d picked up from Bruce, who had learned it from Shaolin monks. And right now Dick needed _focus_. The chance to compartmentalize any emotions he was feeling and bring all of his attention to the present. Because when the news came… When they officially decided to take Lian…

Dick’s emotions would be of no use to Roy then. He would need to be an anchor - a safe place so Roy didn’t lose himself in the pain and grief. And the swirling mass of Dick’s anger and love and something _else_ he couldn’t place would just make everything _harder_. 

Roy elected to spend the time showering. Making himself as presentable as possible. Probably raging and crying under the hot spray. Swallowing anger and grief was never something Roy could manage. Under normal circumstances, it could be a blessing. Being able to tap into intense emotions as easily as breathing was a skill Dick admired in Roy. But right now it was a liability. They had to present a calm, collected front if there was any chance of coming out the other side with Roy’s family intact. 

By 12:15, Roy was sober, out of the shower, dressed, and sitting at the kitchen table. His skin looked rubbed raw and scarlet - likely from scalding water and too much anger. The countertops and floor glistened. Everything that could be done to salvage this had been done. 

And then there was a knock at the front door. 

Roy stood and walked, stilted, then grabbed the knob and opened the door. Behind it was the pleasant, smiling face of a short, plump woman.

“Hi, I’m Diane from DCFS,” she introduced. “Are you Mr. Harper?”

Roy nodded, then cleared his throat. “Hello,” he said with an impressive amount of calm in his voice. “Please come in.”

She stepped over the threshold with the same, unwavering smile, and craned her neck, looking around the kitchen and into what was visible of the living room. 

“You have a lovely home,” she remarked. 

Roy laughed nervously. “Thank you. Can I get you anything? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” she declined, “I won’t take up too much of your time.”

Roy offered her a seat.

She shook her head. “I really won’t be long. I just have to tick some boxes, make sure everything is in order, and then I’ll be gone. Mostly I need to see your daughters room, some other areas of the house. Would that be alright?”

With a sweeping gesture, Roy led Diane upstairs. Dick elected to stay behind, and barely resisted pacing in the living room. 

True to her word, Diane returned back downstairs just minutes after she’d disappeared to the second floor with Roy. Behind her, Roy barely hid a grim expression. The tension in his gait made it look like his muscles were ready to snap. 

Back in the kitchen, Diane sighed heavily. “I do have to ask you a few more difficult questions. Do you have a substance use problem, Mr. Harper?”

Dick held his breath. It was such a loaded question. Should Roy deflect? Say that he hadn’t been struggling. That would mean calling Lian a liar - she had already told the teachers there was an issue. 

Roy closed his eyes. Clenched them tight. Weighing the same dilemma Dick was. Then he answered, simply but truthfully.

“Yes.”

“I understand. Substance dependency can make caring for a child very difficult, and everyone in the family suffers…” Diane began.

“I can take care of her!” Roy interrupted desperately. “I can. I promise. And I’m going to get help, and my friend is here to make sure nothing falls through the cracks, and…”

“Please, Mr. Harper, don’t worry,” Diane countered kindly, “It’s clear that, in spite of your struggles, you’re doing a fine job of caring for your daughter. We just need to make sure things stay that way. I’d like you to strongly consider a rehabilitation program, and we can find someone to take care of Lian while you get well. A temporary foster family would be a good choice.”

Roy was shaking, and Dick clenched his fists at his sides. He could feel the final blow coming. so she continued. 

“Ultimately, however, it’s your decision. And if you have a solid support system,” she smiled at Dick, “then you’re welcome to make arrangements on your own.” 

She rummaged in her bag and pulled out some rehab pamphlets and her business card, then sat them on the table. “I think that’s about everything I need to finalize your case for now, Mr. Harper. You can expect us to pop in on occasion, just to make sure you’re on the right track, but If you need anything before then, please don’t hesitate to call. You’ll get a more formal letter in the mail, and…”

“You mean I get to keep Lian?” Roy asked breathlessly. Disbelieving. Like he had barely processed what Diane was saying. 

“Of course,” Diane said, taken aback but gentle nonetheless. “We’re not in the business of separating happy families. Everyone struggles from time to time, but your daughter’s wellbeing is clearly important to you. There is no neglect like the school was concerned about. And the other complaints were from the same individual. Over a dozen in the last week. We still have to investigate, but once the calls are found to be baseless, the DA usually pushes forward with a harassment suit against them.”

“I get to keep Lian?” Roy repeated, a smile breaking on his face. 

“Yes,” Diane said with a small laugh as she walked to the door, preparing to see herself out. “Everything is _fine_ Mr. Harper. Now I’ll get out of your hair. Again, call if you need anything, and I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” 

Without any additional fanfare, she opened the door and was gone. 

Roy laughed breathlessly, relief bubbling to the surface as Diane pulled out of the driveway, officially leaving his family _together_. Dick couldn't help but feel the same spreading warmth in his chest. They’d pulled it off. Against all odds they’d managed to keep Lian _home_.

Fervently, Roy pulled Dick close and hugged him hard. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I couldn’t have made it through this shit-show without you.” 

With a final squeeze, Roy pulled back and looked Dick in the eyes. “Fuck, I swear I could _kiss_ you,” he said with a chuckle. 

It was a figure of speech. Of course it was. But the thought made Dick’s breath hitch. _This_ was the feeling he couldn’t quite name. The _more_ to the love he’d felt for Roy. He wanted to say ‘then do it’ or some other challenge he could only hope Roy would rise to, but he couldn’t. Certainly not now, while Roy was still more fragile than he’d been in a long time. The news from CPS was good, yes, but Dick could read between the lines of Diane’s offer of help. Roy would face a level of scrutiny in his life he likely didn’t yet grasp. Monthly visits. Rehab _again_. The fight to keep Roy’s small family together wasn’t over. 

So, with a small laugh and a smile, Dick hugged Roy again, clapped him on the shoulder, and said, “we still have work to do.”


	9. Chapter 9

If nothing else, the ‘stay of execution’ gave Roy a burst of determined energy. Minutes after Diane had pulled away, just as soon as the ‘celebration’ was over, he committed himself to the task of finding and dumping all of his hidden booze. Vodka in the dresser. Tequila at the back of the pantry. Mini bottles tucked in his bedside table. Dick cursed inwardly - he felt like a fool for not checking for stashes the minute he set foot in the house. He had _trusted_ Roy, and now that the relief and jubilation had waned, he found himself feeling very conflicted. Stuck in some confusing space between anger and love he couldn’t quite name. 

Part of him wanted to leave immediately. To deny the moment of very real attraction and side with the disappointment and mistrust Roy had fostered. After all, why _should_ he stay on? Lian was safe, Roy was prepared to do what was necessary, in spite of his lies, and CPS had the family’s best interests at heart. Dick’s job was _done_. 

But as he watched Roy fill the sink with bottle after empty bottle, he knew he had to stay.

No. If he were being honest, he knew he _wanted_ to stay. Because Roy was…

Roy was special to him. In the way that only deep friends can be. And in a way that was so much more. How long had Dick buried these feelings? Chalked them up to exhilaration after a battle or waning fury after a fight?

Dick felt like an idiot. For not seeing. For not _knowing_. 

Still, in spite of the love, he could see where Roy’s good intentions were leading. Diane’s visit was not a ‘case closed’ situation, no matter how much Roy wanted to pretend it was. And it was up to him to be the bearer of that bad news. 

“I think it’s great you’re doing so much right now,” Dick began in a metered tone, cautioning as Roy finished dumping the last bottle, “but you know this isn’t over, right? You’ve got to _maintain_ this progress. It’s no good if it's two steps forward, three steps back, right? A relapse could be a _very_ bad thing right now.”

Dick held his breath as he could almost _see_ the angry tension building in Roy’s muscles.

“You don’t think I _know_ that?” Roy demanded. “You think I can’t feel this hanging over my head right now? Why do you think I’m doing all of this?”

“I just think...” Dick started.

“No. I realize I’m a fuckup but I’m not going to blow this, Dick.” Roy crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a furious glare. 

“I didn’t say you were a…” Dick began, trying to backpedal.

“You didn’t have to,” he viciously spat. “I thought you were here to support me. I _thought_ you’d be happy for me. Instead you’re harping on me like I’m some kid…”

“Well if you didn’t act like one I wouldn’t need to!” 

Dick’s temper flared, and he clenched his fists, finally failing to hold back the resentment and disappointment that had been building since he picked up Lian days ago. “You’re right, I _did_ come here to help you, but what the hell was the point when you were hiding all of this the whole time?” He gestured angrily at the slew of empty bottles stacked up in the sink. “What was the point when you couldn’t keep your shit together for less than a week? Why should I believe, for one second, that you can keep it together now? I can’t _trust_ you, anymore!”

Fury evaporated when Dick really _listened_ to the words he had just shouted. They echoed around him, and he wished he could grab them and keep them from hurting Roy. But it was too late. Roy’s shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes tightly. He looked _defeated_.

Dick felt like he couldn’t breathe. Roy was so fragile, right now. His situation, so precarious. Dick should have been the one thing he could hold on to. Instead, he’d just ripped away the _one thing_ their relationship had always counted on - _trust_.

In silence, Roy bundled up the empty bottles and carried them outside. Dick hoped he just needed space, a minute to breathe. That he would come back in and they could talk about all of this rationally. Instead, Roy deposited the bottles in the recycling bin, then sat heavily in a chair on the back porch. 

With the Titans, Dick was always the man with the plan. He’d map out contingencies and iron out snags until every operation was as seamless as possible. But now, staring at his utterly lost friend, cursing himself for being so heartless, he had nothing. No plan of action. No way to see this back to rights. Slowly, he pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down too, determined to wait until Roy was ready to talk. Until he could be given a chance to try and make this _ok_ again. 

But hours passed. Roy chain smoked outside. Dick puttered around, absently washing dishes and watching the clock. At quarter to three, with no end to the standoff in sight, Dick tapped hesitantly on the sliding glass door, then opened it a crack. 

“Did you want me to go and get Lian, or…?”

He let the question hang, giving Roy the opportunity to take the power in the conversation, if he needed to. 

Roy groaned, then stood. “I’ll get her.” He waited a beat, and then sighed. “You’d better come, too. She’ll be disappointed if she doesn’t see you.”

They rode to the school still enveloped in the painful quiet that began at the house. The earlier argument seemed like poison in the air, and Roy kneaded the steering wheel against his palm until his knuckles turned white.

Why did it always go like this? Even before Dick realized these… _feelings_ , he and Roy could go from fast friends to combatants too quickly. But now that Dick couldn’t help but hold onto the hope of _more_ , the dichotomy seemed viscerally _painful_. 

More than once he opened his mouth to say something. _Anything_. But nothing sounded right in his mind.

_”Hey Roy, I love you and it kills me to see you self-destruct over and over again.”_

_”I trust you and love you more than you know. I’m sorry.”_

Not exactly subtle. 

Besides, while Dick might find his emotions complicated and hard to parse out (thanks, Bruce), Roy had _never_ had a problem expressing himself. If there were anything reciprocal about _this_ , Roy would have made it abundantly clear by now. So Dick kept his mouth shut and stared out the window as they rounded the corner into the school lot and took their place in the parent pickup line. 

It wasn't long before Lian was in the car, her jubilant chatter replacing the angry silence from before. Dick nodded along absently, doing his best to seem interested. But as he watched Roy fake happiness and contentment for his little girl, something became painfully clear - Dick _couldn’t_ stay with him, no matter how much he wanted to. Because the most important person here wasn't him, or Roy. It was the little girl buckled in the booster in the backseat, blissfully unaware of how close she came to having her world torn apart today. And Dick had to do everything he could to keep it that way. Rowing with Roy over and over again wouldn’t do _anyone_ any good, least of all Lian. 

Once they were home, the bustle of the afternoon kept both Roy and Dick occupied enough to avoid any conspicuous glares or biting comments. Lian needed a snack, and help with homework. There were things to _do_ , and the inertia of it all meant Dick could tamp down on his mounting anxiety. His mounting _heartbreak_. Because it became clearer by the moment that this tenuous peace wouldn't last. Whenever Lian was engaged in something, Dick caught Roy glaring at him - a look that said _’we are not done talking about this’_.

Over dinner, Lian regaled them both with more tales of her day. A quiz in math. A spill off the monkey bars. A song from music. For her sake, Dick kept a smile on his face, and did his best to make it look genuine. The less Lian knew about today’s situation with CPS, and the fight, and the now uncrossable chasm between him and Roy, the better. He wanted to leave her with good memories - there was no way to know how long it would take before tempers cooled enough for Dick to be able to see her again, and he hated the thought of her remembering him as sad or disinterested. 

Lian scooped a spoonful of peas into her mouth, then asked as she chewed, “Can you read my bedtime story again tonight, Uncle Dick? You’re _really_ good at it and you do all the voices and everything!”

Briefly, Dick froze. He had planned to leave right after dinner - he didn’t want to spend more time alone with Roy and risk another blowout. But as Lian’s face fell, he recovered and smiled, “Of course, sweetheart. I’d love to.”

He could feel Roy staring at him, likely trying to interpret his slip. But Lian beamed and giggled, and saved Dick from any further questions. For the moment.

In fact, the rest of the evening's necessities pushed the urgency of leaving to the side. Lian wanted to play with legos before bed. She rehearsed her song for Friday night’s play and made Dick _promise_ that he would be there. And then it was bathtime, followed by PJs. By the time Dick had settled on the edge of Lian’s bed with a book, he could almost _forget_ the tension that had poisoned the day. Roy leaned casually against the doorframe as Dick pitched his voice to mimic the characters in the story. He looked content at last, and Dick only felt the vise in his chest tighten as the affection he felt for Roy grew. Leaving felt more _necessary_ than ever. 

Finally, Lian was asleep, and they both crept downstairs, careful to not wake her. In the kitchen, Roy scowled at Dick, and the peace of the evening evaporated. 

“So, when were you planning on telling me that you were going to bail,” Roy asked in an angry hush.

Of course Roy figured it out. Dick had practically screamed his intentions at the dinner table. He took a deep breath and evened his voice in a desperate attempt to conceal any emotions. Because anger still burned in his chest, and this _love_ still felt like it was strangling him. He needed distance. He needed an explanation that Roy could understand. 

“Because you’ve got this. Because I can see how _dedicated_ you are to Lian. You don’t need me, anymore.”

Roy scoffed. “Spare me the ‘strong, encouraging leader’ bit. Please. I know you well enough to know when you’re lying. So why are you really leaving?”

Dick’s breath hitched, his heart felt like it was pounding in his throat. He wished he _could_ tell Roy, now. All cards on the table. But who would that help? Not Roy, or Lian. It would be self-serving at best. So he sighed and settled on something else. Another lie. 

“I’m being straight with you, Roy…”

“No, you’re not!” Roy bit back, keeping his voice angry, but low. “I know I’m a _lot_ of things but I am _not_ an idiot.”

“I can’t stay.” Dick’s words slipped out in a whisper. “Please, Roy. I can’t explain it to you, but I can’t stay.”

Shaking his head, Roy stormed into the living room, grabbed Dick’s bag, then dropped it on the floor by the front door.

“Fine.You have to go? Go.” Roy crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a critical look at Dick. “When you’re ready to have an _honest_ conversation, you know where to find me.”

Roy grabbed the doorknob, then paused with a sigh. “Look, for what it's worth? I’m sorry. For all of this. For dragging you in, for not being up front about how _bad_ things were. You did me a solid. Thank you.”

Roy pulled Dick into a tight hug, and Dick could hardly bear the contact. Not when everything was so raw, so close to the surface. Slowly, Dick nodded against Roy’s shoulder. He wished, more than anything, Roy’s casual affection meant more than he knew it did - more than just love between friends, or love between two people who had been through hell together more than once. 

Dick had so much more he needed to say, but the words stuck in his throat like shards of glass. Silently, he grabbed his bag, opened the door, and left. 

In the driveway, he hesitated, then looked back at the house. Drowning in heartache, he took a deep breath and whispered, “I love you.”

Then he climbed in his car and drove away.


End file.
